


Birthday Surprise

by nottoolateforthegame



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, PWP, Roleplay, birthday surprise, blowjob, handjob, soldier kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 04:55:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12810081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nottoolateforthegame/pseuds/nottoolateforthegame
Summary: Sherlock thinks John has forgotten his birthday. John has planned a birthday surprise.





	1. Cover for Birthday Surprise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alexxphoenix42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexxphoenix42/gifts).



> Happy Birthday [Alexx](http://alexxphoenix42.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock stomped up the stairs, face set in a scowl as he yanked his scarf and gloves off. This entire day had been wasted. Lestrade's case had turned out to be ridiculously easy, Molly had kept him waiting for two hours at the lab, only to show him a corpse that clearly had NOT had Argyria. Honestly, how she could have mistaken blue hair dye on the palms of the man's hands for the disorder was beyond him. 

Of course, the day might have been saved if John hadn't gone to work today. Correction, if John hadn't gone to work today as if it were any other day and _not_ Sherlock’s birthday. Which apparently set an example for the world at large. Not one person had wished him a happy birthday today. Even Mrs. Hudson seemed to have forgotten. Usually she would be counted on to bake his favorite honey chiffon cake with lemon glaze for his birthday, but apparently not this year.

Sherlock knew it was ridiculous, but he couldn’t help but feel incredibly disappointed and hurt that no one seemed to remember. Just a few short years ago, no one in his circle of acquaintances had even known of his birthday. It was only after John entered his life and somehow tricked Mycroft into revealing Sherlock’s birthday (something to do with banking and bills) that anyone became aware of his birthday and began acknowledging it (also thanks to John, who had insisted on hosting a birthday dinner the first year after he’d found out, and found other equally ridiculous ways to celebrate since). If he was being honest he would admit that the disappointment and hurt really stemmed from the fact that it was John who seemed to have forgotten-he really couldn’t care less if anyone else remembered or not.

Sherlock went to hang his coat and frowned. John’s coat was hanging on it's hook, next to Sherlock’s. He was certain John had grabbed it on his way out the door this morning. Just as he was about to call out to John, he heard his name being called from upstairs.

“Sherlock, that you? Come on up and give me a hand, will you?” John’s voice drifted down from his room.

Sherlock considered just ignoring John, but John was home early, and Sherlock didn’t know why. Perhaps he had been ill or injured at work. Sherlock’s heart kicked up a notch at the thought, before settling again. If something serious had happened, John would have called him from work, not come home to deal with it. So, whatever it was, couldn’t have been too serious. Still, he was curious enough to go upstairs.  

Sherlock froze in the doorway to John’s room. John was standing at parade rest in the middle of the room in his army combat uniform. The long sleeved shirt was open at the chest, revealing a khaki vest over a still fit chest and abdomen beneath. The trousers fit snug across his hips and thighs, and were just tight enough for Sherlock to deduce that he wore no pants beneath. He’d even pulled on the boots. Sherlock’s gaze traveled head to toe, taking it all in. His heart raced and he grabbed the doorframe as he felt a rush of dizziness as all the blood in his body seemed to race to his groin.

“Ungh!” That hadn’t been what Sherlock meant to say. He took a deep breath and tried again. “John?”

John straightened up, chin tilting, shoulders squaring-everything about him suddenly screamed Captain. He returned Sherlock’s once over with one of his own, lips pursing as he shook his head and tutted.

“That’s Captain Watson.” John’s voice was quietly authoritative, and Sherlock’s already hard cock began leaking in his trousers at the sound of it.  “You are violating uniform regulations, Private. Remove those unauthorized civvies, now.”

Sherlock was kick started by the command. His hands rushed to unfasten buttons as he toed off his shoes and tried to do the same to his socks. When he stumbled forward slightly, he just went with it, dropping to his knees as he yanked his shirt off and began opening his flies. He sat on his bottom and dragged off his trousers and socks in one swoop, then stood back up, facing John, cock hard against his stomach, panting from exertion and excitement.

John circled around Sherlock, stopping behind him and stepping close. Sherlock could feel the fabric of John’s trousers brush against the bare skin of his arse, John’s hot breath against the nape of his neck, the heat of John’s body against his back.

“Straighten those shoulders, square that stance.” John's words were accompanied by his hands running up Sherlock's chest and his leg inserting itself between his thighs, forcing his stance to shift. The actions caused the material of Johns uniform to rub against Sherlock's skin, and his breath hitched as arousal speared through him.

John circled around in front of Sherlock and looked him over again. He gave a knowing smirk when his eyes came to Sherlock's leaking cock, which was flushed pink and straining upright against his abdomen.

“Well, at least part of you knows how to stand at attention.” John hummed thoughtfully, then his smirk turned positively wicked. “Perhaps you'll do better at kneeling. On your knees, Soldier.”

Sherlock dropped to his knees, unable to tear his gaze away as he found himself at eye level with John's groin. The rigid outline of John's cock was pressing against the material of his trousers, and Sherlock suddenly wanted nothing more than to taste him through the material. He turned pleading eyes to John, whose breath hitched at the wide eyed desperate expression on Sherlock’s face. John stepped closer, threading his fingers through Sherlock's hair. Sherlock moaned and leaned forward, nuzzling John's crotch. He rested his cheek against John's cock and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.

“Please.” Sherlock's voice was wrecked. “Please, Sir, let me.”

Sherlock buried his face against John again, opening his mouth to breath damply against the fabric. John groaned and his fingers tightened in Sherlock's hair.

“Go on then.”

Sherlock began to mouth at John in earnest, tongue and lips wetting the fabric over John's prick as he did his best to wrap his mouth over every inch of flesh through the fabric. He ran his hands up John's thighs and backside, gripping his arse through the rough camouflage material.

Soon John tugged hard at his curls, and Sherlock allowed himself to be pulled away with a whine. He bit his lip when he realized John was opening his flies, releasing his cock from confinement. John reached out again and applied just the slightest pressure to the back of Sherlock's head.

Sherlock opened wide and took John deep into his mouth. John swore and groaned as Sherlock bobbed up and down, working to take more of him on each pass. Sherlock’s hands came up, one fondling John’s heavy balls, the other wrapping around the base of John’s cock. Despite his determination to do so, Sherlock knew he couldn't take John to the root; John was simply too long and thick.

John’s breathing was harsh, grunts escaping his throat occasionally when Sherlock would toy with the tip of his cock before taking him deep again, or press a firm finger to his perineum, knowing just how to drive John hard and fast to completion.

John’s fingers tightened in his hair in warning as Sherlock felt John’s thighs tense. He slid almost completely off John’s prick, breathing deeply before taking John as deep as he could, swallowing with a hum. John spilled down his throat with a shout, bending forward over Sherlock’s head as he did so.

Sherlock stayed knelt at John's feet, waiting for him to recover. He inhaled John, sweaty and musky and salty and perfect. His own cock was throbbing painfully at this point, but he waited, knowing John would take care of him.

Suddenly John pulled Sherlock up and practically dragged him across the room. He sat on the bed, then dragged Sherlock into his lap, facing him out with his legs spread wide over John's lap. Sherlock was surrounded by the feel of John’s uniform. The soft vest pressed to his back, the rougher trousers to his legs and bottom. His arms circled Sherlock’s chest, one hand toying with his nipples as the other wrapped firmly around his cock. The drag of the material covering John’s arms created a delicious friction against his side.

Sherlock squirmed and whimpered as John began tugging at his cock. John murmured endearments in his ear, dropping the occasional soft kiss to the side of Sherlock’s neck or face. His hand kept up a steady, smooth rhythm and soon Sherlock was coming all over his own chest and John’s hand. He slumped back against John, who held him close and tight, grounding him while he came back to himself.

 “Mm….”

“Happy birthday, love.” John pressed a kiss to the side of his head, just above his ear.

“Please tell me you’re keeping it on all day.” Sherlock’s voice was only slightly demanding.

“Mmm...and Mrs. Hudson is staying with a friend until tomorrow evening. She left a cake downstairs, though. Baked it at Mrs. Turner’s so you wouldn’t smell it and ruin the surprise.”

“And I suppose Molly and Lestrade were deliberately keeping me from home so you could get ready?”

“Well, Molly was. Greg just happened to actually need your help. But he understands he is not to disturb us until tomorrow evening unless he has a 15 at least.”

“It would appear you’ve managed to find yourself on furlough, Captain.” Sherlock’s voice dropped, and he trailed a finger down John’s throat. “Perhaps I could keep you company while you’re on leave?”

“Oh, God, yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr!](http://nottoolateforthegame.tumblr.com/)


End file.
